Second Chance
by DreamingInColour
Summary: Of all the possible ways he could die Draco never would have thought a single olive would lead to his demise. But when he is offered a second chance at life he eagerly accepts. Too bad his second chance comes with an unexpected condition.
1. Part 1

**Author's note: **Hi everyone! This is the first new story from me for a while! It's been finished completely so there will be no prolonged wait between chapters except that which I choose to maliciously torture you with. The story is only four parts and its something I put together to kick start me back into writing again. Many thanks go to Lex for the precious time she spent betaing this story for me, I value her friendship (and her patience) greatly.

I hope you enjoy it!

* * *

**Second Chance: Part 1**

"Malfoy?" Draco heard the gentle voice of his boss and he cringed at the papers he had scattered across his desk. He bit down hard on his tongue as he silently told Potter to _piss off. _He had been completely involved in putting together the final report for the Cassandra Wattlebrush assault and battery case; he didn't need Head Auror fucking Potter asking him any more stupid questions. Draco wondered constantly how Potter had landed the job of Department Head; sure he'd destroyed the Dark Lord, but clearly he was inept. Okay, not _completely_ inept. Potter actually managed the Department quite well; crime rates were down, there were few Death Eaters left on the loose, and the staff were efficient, capable, and hard working. How this all came about was anyone's guess since Potter seemed to be nothing more than a blabbering idiot.

"Hmm?" Draco replied distractedly. He refused to let Potter pull him out of his deep concentration on the final pieces of this case. He was _so close _to finishing the paperwork to officially close it.

"I have a meeting with Dunk Richards at two, but nothing really urgent that I need to do before then," Potter said, stepping further into Draco's small office. "I thought maybe you'd like a hand on the Kimber murder, Dave was saying some of the evidence didn't match up and-"

"Kimber case is in those two boxes," Draco stated, interrupting Potter's no doubt long-winded explanation as to why he still thought after seven years as one of the Department's best Aurors, Draco still needed to be babied by the boss. He was long sick of it by now, but knew he couldn't say anything. Besides, on this particular case, he really did need some help.

"Oh, sure, I was thinking we could go over it together," Potter added and Draco gritted his teeth. _This _is why Draco thought Potter couldn't possibly be doing his job properly, who ever heard of a Department Head with enough time to _hover _over his workers all the damn time!?

"I'm actually just finishing up the Wattlebrush case so I can close it," Draco sighed with frustration, knowing Potter would insist on doing the murder case he'd been poring over for weeks now. He really just needed a break from it. "If you give me another forty minutes I can have the case finished and ready for you to sign it closed."

"Oh," Potter said sounding a little disappointed. "Right, of course. It's just that I may not have time to go over the Kimber case with you later today, so unless you'd like to maybe grab something to eat with me tonight, we could-"

"You're the boss," Draco huffed, cutting him off again and pushing his report aside to make room for the two large boxes he'd thrown disgustedly into the corner that morning. He could humour Potter with the Kimber murder and finish closing his other case when Potter was meeting with Richards; that man could talk the life out of a donkey so Draco knew Potter would be caught up for the rest of the afternoon.

Potter bit his lip and frowned, again looking disappointed. Draco thought he could have killed the man right then. He was getting what he wanted for goodness sake, and he was still unhappy?! "Well, good," Potter nodded and picked up one of the boxes.

Half an hour later saw Draco gritting his teeth harder than ever as he went around in circles with Potter arguing about the relevance of a small amount of blood found in the bathroom. Draco thought that it wasn't conclusive enough to spend any length of time on since the blood belonged to the victim and it was _his_ bathroom – he could have cut himself shaving for all they knew – but Potter insisted he shouldn't discount it so quickly.

Salvation came in the form of a call out.

"Malfoy! Get your coat, Buddy," Draco looked up to see Quinton, one of the few colleagues he got along with, grinning at him from his doorway. "You're gonna love this."

Draco rolled his eyes. "What is it?"

"Draco and I are in the middle of something, can you take Farrar?" Potter suggested authoritatively, and Draco balked. His boss didn't often call him Draco, nor did he often assert his position as Head, preferring to blend in as a colleague, but this time he'd done both.

"Sorry, Boss, it's Hopper," Quinton replied, still grinning like an idiot. Hopper. He was a regular that only responded positively to Draco, in fact, Draco was convinced the idiot caused trouble just to see him.

"We shouldn't really indulge him by sending you out all the time," Potter frowned, glancing at Draco then back to Quinton. "You know that's the only reason he does this."

"Yeah, I know, Boss," Quinton nodded, his shoulders starting to shake with laughter. "But really, you should think of the children."

"Children?"

At this it seemed Quinton could no longer contain himself and he doubled over with laughter. "He's in Quality Quidditch in Diagon trying to ride all the brooms," he explained. "Naked. Anna was first on the scene, but couldn't get him to calm. Oh, it's brilliant. She sent pictures!"

Even Draco had to crack a smile at this, it did sound rather hilarious. He eyed Potter in the chair opposite his desk; he knew that he couldn't leave if his old enemy decided to send someone else. Potter glanced back at Draco and nodded. "Just go," he said with a sigh and a wave of his hand.

Draco scrambled from his chair and grabbed his coat, glad to be free of their incessant arguing. As he left, Potter called out after him. "This is the last time, Malfoy! Make sure you tell him that if he does this again he will not see you, and he will find himself stunned and spending the night in lock up."

Draco huffed and nodded before rushing out after Quinton. How the hell did he end up taking orders from Harry Potter? He didn't remember signing up for this when he'd enrolled as an Auror all those years ago. He'd only started his training a year after Potter did, but he supposed it wasn't too surprising that the Ministry's Golden Boy ended up as Department head before he was thirty.

He seriously needed to consider a career change.

* * *

The Universe hated him. He was sure of it.

Draco had stopped into his favourite pub on the way home for a quick drink. The bartender was cute and flattering in his attentions, although Draco noticed he did it with everyone, but that didn't take away from the fact that the man made a Martini like no other. He had been rather enjoying himself, quietly contemplating life with his Martini, when he heard a rowdy bunch enter the establishment. Glancing over he was horrified to see his boss, Harry Potter. Was he fucking following him or something?

Judging by the out of tune version of the 'Happy Birthday' song, he guessed Potter wasn't following him. Still, it'd explain a lot if he were. Stupid Gryffindor.

Eager to get out of there, Draco swallowed down the rest of his Martini and moved to slip off his stool and out the door. Except he couldn't… he couldn't… _breathe! _

Draco gagged a few times, but nothing happened. He tried desperately to suck in another lung full of oxygen, but again, nothing happened. Something was stuck in his throat!

It was the damn olive from his drink!

Panicking, Draco turned back to the bar, gripping it tightly and trying to get the attention of the barman. His head was starting to feel thick and heavy and he was struggling to stay conscious. He banged hard on the top of the bar to try and attract some attention but the movement seemed to have drained the last of his energy and his knees collapsed from under him. He felt a sting in his kneecaps as they connected with the floor, and then he was pulled into darkness. Hearing his name called from somewhere in the distance, Draco tried to respond, but he couldn't.

* * *

Draco blinked his eyes open and glanced around him. It was bright – brighter than anything he'd ever experienced before, but for some reason it wasn't blinding. He could breathe which was a relief, there seemed to be nothing but air in this endless space, and that worried him. To his left and right there was a vast nothingness, but standing in front and behind him seemed to be a line of people – a very long line.

"Oi, you there," Draco called out softly to the person in front of him. It was so quiet he wondered if he should be talking at all, but he couldn't help himself. "Excuse me!" he hissed louder and the man turned around.

"Oh, hi," he said, giving Draco a weak smile. He looked to be a few years younger than Draco and rather attractive with dark brown hair and dark eyes.

"Where the hell are we?" Draco asked none too kindly.

"We're in line."

Draco wanted to hit him. "How did I get here?" he asked, trying a different tactic.

"You mean you don't know?" the young man asked, his mouth falling open slightly.

"Know what?"

"You're dead, Mate," he shrugged and Draco's eyes widened in horror. "Sorry to be the one to tell you."

"I'm not dead! I – I can't be! What the hell is this?" Draco exclaimed rather loudly, but no one else around him seemed to react.

"We're all dead, Dude," his new acquaintance sighed.

"You're dead?" Draco gasped.

"Yep, I got a better batch of… recreational potions-" The guy smirked. "-than I thought and I took a bit too much. But what is it that Peter Pan says – the next great adventure?" he added with a bitter chuckle. "What about you? How did you die?"

"I don't know." Draco was dismayed. Dead? Really? That didn't seem right at all. There were so many things he'd yet to do. He'd never even fallen in love.

"Yeah, you do," the guy prompted. "What is the last thing you remember?"

"I was at the pub, then Potter walked in and I – oh my god…" Draco thought he should have felt sick, but he didn't. He felt fine. Perfectly healthy. In fact all these people looked perfectly healthy; none of them looked even remotely dead.

"See," the young man answered smugly. "What happened?"

"I choked," Draco almost whimpered. He was too young to be dead. He'd only just turned thirty a few weeks ago! "Where do you suppose this line goes?" Draco asked his new friend eventually, once the shock had worn off a little.

"Dunno," the guy shrugged. "Fingers crossed its Heaven, eh?" he laughed quietly.

"I think I'm going the other way," Draco speculated, not really meaning it. At least he hoped…

"Next!" Draco heard another voice call and he leaned around his new friend to find himself at the start of the line. He hadn't even known he'd been moving forward. His friend stepped up and spoke to a rather odd looking woman with some kind of tattoo on her left cheek that looked like an arrow. After a few tense minutes the young man looked back at him and winked before stepping through a newly materialized doorway. He found it strangely comforting.

"Next!" It was his turn. Swallowing thickly, he stepped forward.

"Name?" the woman asked uncaringly.

"Draco Malfoy."

She had a large book in front of her and when he spoke his name the pages flipped over and over in a flurry of papers before they stopped abruptly. The women used a long, thin finger to scroll down the page, looking for Draco's name he guessed, and when she found it she slid her finger along to the left.

She paused.

"What was your name again?" she asked, looking up at him for the first time.

"Draco Malfoy." Draco's stomach knotted with nerves about what was going to happen to him now.

"Draco Lucius Malfoy?"

"Yes." There was some kind of problem, he could see it in her eyes and he was starting to panic.

"Date of birth?"

"Fifth of June, Nineteen Eighty," he answered anxiously.

"Parents' names?"

"Lucius Abraxas Malfoy and Narcissa Gilda Malfoy, but she was born Narcissa Gilda Black." The frown on the woman's face deepened and he felt an immediate urge to run; though he wasn't sure where he could go. He hadn't led a very good life and if the afterlife was retribution like some people believed then he was in a lot of trouble.

"I'll be right back," she muttered before rising from her chair and shuffling away, fading into thin air until she'd completely disappeared.

This was an unusual place.

Draco's skin tingled with fear, the air was silent around him and if it weren't for the sigh of his breaths as he exhaled he would have wondered if he'd suddenly gone deaf. He turned around to look at the line of people behind him, thousands of men and women as far back as he could see. No children though and he was glad of that, seeing children in this depressing world would have broken him.

"Nervous?" he asked the woman behind him, but she just slumped her shoulders further and stared at the hard white floor under their feet. He turned back around.

Tentatively he took a step forward to the desk at which the disappearing woman had sat and he tried to peer over to see the large book that must have contained records of the dead. As far as he could see the pages were blank.

"Do you mind?" someone snapped making him jump back. The woman had returned and brought someone with her, an older man that looked a little like his old Headmaster. Draco cringed. Bad memories.

"You say your name is Draco Lucius Malfoy?" the man questioned him sternly.

"Yes, Sir," he answered immediately. As far removed from his parents as he now was, some of their teachings still remained strong within him; respect to those who had power over you.

"Give me your hand," the man instructed, and Draco complied. He took Draco's hand gently within his own and examined it for a few very tense seconds. "Come with me."

Draco felt fear wash over him and it was all he could do to remain standing. He didn't understand any of this. A doorway appeared and the man, who was nearly as tall as the top of the entryway, stepped through it, beckoning Draco to follow.

Another empty room, save for a white table and two chairs. "Does this room make you uncomfortable?" the man asked him.

Draco bowed his head. "A little," he confessed. It felt so clinical and sterile; it would be impossible to be comfortable in here.

"So change it," he replied, smiling slightly at Draco. "Close your eyes and imagine where you'd most like to be right now." Draco was hesitant at first, glancing sideways at the stranger. He didn't want to close his eyes, he would lose one of his senses and he'd been trained to avoid that, especially in foreign and suspect situations. This whole experience had been foreign and suspect. "Close your eyes, Draco."

He took a deep breath and carefully he closed his eyes. "When can I open them again?"

"When you have a clear image of where you'd most like to be," he heard the man whisper from close by. "Do you see it in your mind?"

"Yes." Draco could see the green tones of his mother's plants and the bright colours of the flowers she so loved to tend to. He could feel the breeze on his cheeks and the warm spring sun on his nose. This is where he longed to be again; back home when he was a child, loved, and safe in the arms of his mother.

"Open your eyes." Draco gasped at what he saw. He was back home in Narcissa's garden, even the smells were the same, the warmth of the day brought out the scent of the flowers and it soothed him. "You long to be loved again," the man observed, "to feel safe with your family."

"I want lots of things I'll never have now," he replied, neither confirming nor denying the statement.

"You could have had love and security if you'd chosen it," the stranger said, almost chastising him. "You didn't."

"You don't know anything about me," Draco snapped, trying not to let this otherworldly man get under his skin.

"On the contrary, I know more about you than you do," the man almost chuckled. His similarity to Dumbledore was rather painful for Draco to endure; he had never truly forgiven himself for the role he had played in the man's death.

Instead of responding, Draco turned to make his way to his mother's favourite shrub. She had always spent more time tending to this plant than any other in her garden; Draco never remembered any of their names, but he knew which ones she liked best. He caressed the deep green leaves, tracing the veins along the stem.

"Do you know why you are here?" the man asked him.

"I died," Draco replied in barely a whisper. This garden was making him feel his loss more acutely than ever before; the loss of his family – his father in prison and his mother's suspicious death not long afterwards, his social isolation, depression, and now the loss of his own life. A wasted life without love or happiness.

"You are not supposed to be here, Draco," the man told him, and Draco looked up at him in surprise and uncertainty. Was there another afterlife waiting for him? One that was filled with foul things instead of forever blooming flowers? "You have died before your time."

"You mean because I'm young?" he queried, feeling his anxiety all over again.

"No, I mean because you did not fulfill your destiny."

Draco's thin eyebrows shot up into his hair at this declaration. "My destiny?" That just didn't sound right to him. People like Potter had destinies, not people like him. "I think you have the wrong bloke."

"No, it's written in your hands," he assured him confidently. "You have an important job to do on Earth, perhaps the most important job there is."

"The most important job there is?" Draco asked incredulously. He found it hard to believe that fate wanted _him _to save the world, or something equally heroic.

"_Love,_ Draco," the otherworldly stranger told him. Draco could hear the excitement in his voice and see it dancing in the man's golden eyes that had locked with his; he could not look away no matter how much he wanted to. "It is your destiny to love, and to be loved."

Draco's heart skipped a beat. Love? It seemed too wonderful to be true for love to be his destiny. He wanted to be loved so much, and to give his love to another, but he'd never let himself even try. He had made some terrible choices when he was young and he feared that he would never find somebody that would be able to love him in spite of his history. He didn't believe he could truly find the kind of love he needed without honesty, if he couldn't confide in his companion then there was no point, and how could he expect to find someone who would understand about the mistakes he'd made.

"It's a nice thought," Draco sighed; he'd long given up hope of finding something more than a superficial relationship. "But it's too late now anyway."

"It _is_ your destiny, Draco, but it is also the destiny of another who is still alive," the man explained. "Your true love, he has sacrificed so much and you are his reward for those sacrifices. If he does not have you, he will die just as surely as you are dead now."

"What are you talking about?" Draco was becoming more confused the more time he spent here, and he was starting to get angry that this man was talking like he _could _be with this person now. He was dead and, as far as he knew, it has always been a rather permanent state of being.

"In a life of almost complete darkness, your love has always been able to see the one glimmer of light he had to hold on to, for a while now you have been his light and even now he is losing hope and letting the darkness close around him."

"What do you mean 'for a while now I've been his light'?" Draco scoffed in disbelief. "That's ridiculous; I haven't dated anyone for months!"

"You have been resisting his advances for years, his light is the hope that one day you will notice him as he has noticed you," the man explained. His voice had been calm throughout their conversation, as if he was telling Draco a fictional story and not torturing him with all the things he would never have now.

"Who are you talking about?" Draco asked, suddenly desperate to know the truth, even if it would never be a reality. "Who is my true love? It's not Quinton, is it? Because that would be so wrong for a number of reasons you probably already know about."

"You don't need to ask me, Draco, you know already," the stranger teased him. "You've known for years, but you don't know how to accept it. You must _force_ yourself to accept it because the consequences are grave if you don't," he warned. "That's why you are here. You are walking the wrong path, this life was not meant for you and you have strayed too far for too long from your destiny."

Draco felt his chest tighten at this declaration. It couldn't possibly be true, none of this seemed real. Could he really be dead because he couldn't accept love from another?

"I can give you a second chance," the man whispered and Draco gasped, snapping his gaze up to the man for the first time since he'd been told his destiny was to love. "But you must make it count because you will not get another."

"A second chance? You mean I can – I'd be…" Draco stuttered.

"Alive, yes. A second chance, but you must accept your destiny. Let this man into your heart and I promise you, you will be rewarded with a long, happy, and fulfilled life with him."

"You have to tell me who he is," Draco pleaded, and the man smiled at him in a frustratingly reassuring manner.

"You already know who he is," he said, and then pressed his hands firmly on Draco's chest and pushed hard.

Draco fell back, stumbling as he tried to keep his balance. "Ow!" he cried. "What the fuck?" The man came at him and shoved him again. "Stop it!" He was starting to lose his breath again and his lungs were burning. "What are you doing to me?"

"Love him well," the man said simply and he shoved Draco one last time.

* * *

His lungs burned and his chest was throbbing. Someone was leaning on his rib cage, crushing him and he couldn't breathe. Desperately, he started to thrash about, trying to push them off and with one last punch to his stomach he coughed, taking in his first sweet gulp of air.

"Oh my God, Draco, are you alright?" someone asked him, sounding panicked.

He was lying flat on the floor and he could make out a crowd of people around him; he didn't care. He rolled to his side and coughed harshly, trying not to throw up as he did.

"Can everyone please just give him some space?" a woman asked. Draco could feel her kneeling close beside him, but it didn't sound like anyone heeded her request.

"Everyone back the fuck off before I drag your arses out of here personally one by one!" It sounded like Potter was about ready to rip people's throats out, and immediately Draco heard the crowd dissipate. "Draco, can you hear me?" he asked gently. Draco felt Potter's hand rest lightly on his shoulder. "Is he going to be alright, Mione?"

"Well, he's breathing, that's certainly a good start," Draco heard her reply; it had been Granger who'd warned people away the first time. "Just give him a moment, he's only just breathing again, it will be a few minutes before he will feel comfortable speaking."

Inwardly Draco was grateful to her, he couldn't stand Potter's nagging questions right now and didn't have the energy or the breath to tell him to bugger off himself. He focused on steadying his breathing; in, out, in, out. Slowly he felt his heart rate slow and his lungs ease as they relaxed in his chest. He felt someone rubbing circles on his back and he sighed, releasing his tense shoulders.

"That's it, just relax and breathe," he heard Granger whisper to him soothingly. "The Emergency Healers are on their way, they'll take you to St. Mungo's for a proper check up. You're going to be just fine."

"Draco?" he heard his boss call to him softly. He sounded shaky and scared, like a little boy who'd just discovered he was alone.

Draco looked up at him through his clearing vision, and the moment he locked eyes with Potter he knew. He knew that the ghostly man was right, he knew that Potter was in love with him, and he knew deep down he'd known that for a while.

Potter was his destiny.

Fuck.

* * *

So what do you think of the concept?


	2. Part 2

Thank you for all the lovely reviews! And many thanks to Lex who betaed this for me.

I hope you enjoy this chapter!

* * *

**Second Chance – Part 2**

Draco had woken up at St. Mungo's a few times over the years and he had never found the experience to be particularly pleasant. Actually, it'd always been rather depressing. Besides the fact that each time he had been admitted to St Mungo's he'd been physically ill in some way, the truly depressing part was always how few people cared. Mostly his trips here had been work related and thus he had a few visits from colleagues, but nobody else. He had no friends, no family, and it was never more obvious than when he was ill.

He groaned. His muscles were aching.

"Draco?" There it was again, that meek, scared little voice; it was hard to believe it belonged to Potter, but it did.

Draco groaned again, still unable to wrap his tongue around any coherent words.

"It's okay, don't move," Potter instructed him, calming his movements with a gentle hand. "They sedated you to assess the damage to your vital organs. Apparently you were without oxygen for a little while, but it all seems to be okay. I promised the nurse I would tell her when you woke so just relax; I'll be back in a moment." Potter was gone before Draco had a chance to ask him what he was doing there in the first place.

Potter's presence had always unnerved him and he was beginning to think it was because he'd always suspected Potter's attentions extended beyond his position as Department Head, or a supportive colleague. Now that he knew for sure that was the case, Potter made him even more nervous.

Potter returned with a Healer and twitched nervously in the corner as he watched her check Draco's eyes, throat, reflexes, and breathing. As she worked she spoke to him, but so far she'd only asked him questions which could be answered easily with a movement of his head. After ensuring he was generally quite healthy, she wanted him to test his voice box. "Tell me your name," she requested. Draco took a deep breath and tried to speak, but it came out as a mumble and a sigh. "That's okay, just try again for me."

He cleared his throat painfully. "Draco," he rasped.

"Good," she smiled at him and then walked over to talk to Potter. "Sit and chat to him for a while if you have time, the more he uses his voice the easier it will be for him. We'll keep him overnight, but he should be feeling right as rain tomorrow." Potter nodded and the woman left.

"You're looking much better," Potter commented as he approached the bed.

"What are-" Draco coughed; his throat ached, but he persevered. "What are you doing here?"

"I just wanted to make sure you didn't need anything," he said, scuffing his foot on the ground uncomfortably.

"They have medi-witches for that," Draco answered haughtily, but his broken voice didn't carry quite the same smug tone as it used to. "What do you want?"

"I was there when you – when it happened, and I wanted to make sure you were okay," he replied. "I didn't want you to wake up by yourself."

That last comment almost hurt to hear, but he wasn't about to admit to it, or accept Potter's pity visit. Draco was about to brush him off again and tell him that was quite unnecessary when he remembered what the strange man from the afterlife had told him. Potter was his true love, his destiny, and if necessary he was to force himself to accept it. "Thanks," he said instead, but didn't elaborate. Potter seemed encouraged by this one monotone word and pushed the visitors chair towards the bed so he might sit closer to him. Draco was a little freaked out by it.

"How are you feeling?" Potter asked.

"Fine, actually," Draco wheezed, not sounding particularly convincing. "I don't know why they want me to stay here; I'd be more comfortable at home."

"Perhaps I can talk to them about it," he offered and Draco wasn't sure if he wanted to accept. It'd be nice if he could get out of this stinking hospital, but he didn't want to encourage Potter to become too involved in his life – not yet anyway. "Maybe I could stay with you for a few days so you wouldn't be alone and bring you back in if they want to do a check up?" That settled it.

"No, it's only one night," Draco reasoned. "Besides, I don't really feel up to moving about much."

"Oh," Potter frowned with concern. "Is there anything I can do? Anything you need?"

"Yeah a bit of quiet would be nice, maybe you should go home for a while," Draco said, trying not to sound too ungrateful, although he didn't quite succeed. Potter looked crushed, his whole body sank lower into the chair and he nodded.

As he watched Potter leave the room he started to feel even worse than he had before, he knew he was supposed to be trying to accept him and he shouldn't be pushing him away like this, but he couldn't help it. It was too much, too soon.

He relaxed back into the hardness of the mattress underneath him and sighed. It was possible that everything he thought he'd experienced while he was dead had been a dream. That world, that man, his so-called destiny, all of it could have simply been a work of his own mind. Whether that man was real or not, Potter was still interested and either way Draco was going to have to decide what to do about it.

He thought about being with Potter, imagined their life together and what it might feel like. He imagined Potter as his boyfriend, his life partner, and it wasn't awful. Potter was hot, even a straight man would be able to see that, he was intelligent – most of the time – and resourceful. He could certainly match Draco in a fight, but could they carry on a proper conversation? Draco realized he'd never really tried. Now that he thought about it, he realized that Potter had been trying to talk to him for months, even years, and he'd never properly responded; the man's persistence was astonishing really.

Perhaps he should give Potter a chance and go on a date with him….

Draco sighed. He knew he couldn't, he should, but he couldn't. The truth was he was scared. Having meaningless flings with men who didn't know him was one thing, but dating Potter would be entirely different. Whether it was because of the dream he'd had, or because of their history, Draco didn't know, but he did know that Potter could never be a fling. Potter would want more than a brief relationship, that's just how he was, and Draco wasn't sure he could give him that. He wanted to love someone and to have them for the rest of his life, however long that was, but he had never been confident that he knew _how _to do that.

If his otherworldly experience had been real then he was in an impossible situation. He couldn't date Potter because he wasn't sure he would be able to give him everything he wanted, but he couldn't not date him or he might die again, and he didn't expect to get _another _chance at life. Draco scoffed at his own thoughts. When he worded it like that, even in his mind, it sounded ridiculous. Date Potter or die? It was too unbelievable, there was no way it was true.

"Contemplating the meaning of life now you've had a near death experience?" Draco looked up to see Quinton stroll into his room still smiling as he always did, but even Draco could see his smile was strained with worry.

"Yeah, well, apparently it wasn't my time," Draco replied, smiling weakly at his own personal joke.

"Must still have something important to do here," Quinton mused, making his way up to the armchair Potter had occupied by the bed. Draco didn't reply, he didn't know what to say. There was every chance he did have something more to achieve in his life, like fulfilling his destiny with Potter. He knew it sounded stupid that Potter was his true love, but he was also not stupid enough to completely rule it out when the consequences may be fatal for him. He had seen more than enough 'impossible' to know better than to do that. "Well, in any case, I'm glad you decided to stick around," Quinton said, and then with a genuine smile he added, "and so is Harry."

Draco tried to control his expression at this comment, but he couldn't; his eyes widened, his body tensed, and he blinked stupidly at his friend. Quinton had teased him before about Potter's apparent attraction to him, but this time his friend's tone held something different – something serious. "Yeah, right," he laughed awkwardly after regaining some of his composure.

"Dude, you can't keep ignoring him forever. He's completely infatuated with you," Quinton challenged him. "Everybody knows and they all think you're crazy for rejecting him every time."

"He's not infatuated with me, he doesn't even _know _me," Draco argued, confessing out loud an insecurity he didn't even know had. "He's probably conjured up some idea in his head about what I'm like and he thinks I'm better than I am, or maybe he thinks I'm damaged and he wants to save me like he tries to save everyone else. I mean, he's Harry Potter for fuck's sake, don't you know how stupid it is to think that he would have feelings for me? _Me! _We haven't even had a real conversation!"

"You talk to each other at work all the time," Quinton argued reasonably. "Just because you haven't really talked outside of that doesn't mean the guy doesn't know what he likes. You're a brilliant Auror and I can see how much he admires that in you. Maybe you should give him a chance and let him get to know you outside of work."

Draco sighed, knowing his friend was right, but wishing he wasn't. He couldn't ignore Potter forever, especially not now that it seemed like they had some kind of predestined future together. "I know I should, but…I don't even know him, and if it doesn't work out it will be awkward at work," he retorted. "Haven't you ever heard the saying 'don't shit where you eat'? Potter is my boss."

"I'm not asking you to shit anywhere," Quinton replied, trying not to laugh as he did. "All I'm saying is that maybe you should get to know each other a bit outside of the office as friends, and if _friends_ is all it ever gets to, well, then there will be no weirdness. But I think you'd be great together, I really do."

"Are you sure you're straight? Look at you match-making two guys together," Draco teased, attempting to take the focus off him for a while. Perceptive as he always was, Quinton seemed to understand and he started to drone on about the latest girl he had his eye on.

Draco just closed his eyes and relaxed back into his bed.

* * *

"Do you have everything you need?" Potter asked Draco for the hundredth time. "I distributed some of your cases while you were away so they can sit with the others for a while if you need some time to get back into it."

"I don't need any time, Potter," Draco growled with frustration. Potter had been hovering over him all morning and it was starting to get to him; he could never be in a relationship with this man if he didn't learn to give him some _space_. "I'm perfectly healthy, just tell me who has which of my cases so I can get an update on where they are at now."

Potter sighed as he sank into the chair opposite Draco's desk. He gave Draco the information he wanted, but looked reluctant to leave once he did. "Let me know if you need anything, won't you?" he said again, and Draco rolled his eyes.

"Get out of my office before I report you to the Head of Department," he teased and with a soft laugh Potter left him alone with his thoughts.

He'd thought about his predicament with Potter extensively over the last week since he'd died and then come back to life, and, to be perfectly honest, he hadn't reached any kind of conclusion. He had been on forced – and completely unnecessary – bed rest at home for the last couple of days, as per Potter's orders, and he'd had lots of time for his thoughts to chase each other around in circles until he felt dizzy. He came close to deciding to ask Potter out on a date, only to talk himself out of the idea, and then back into it, and then out of it again, until he wasn't sure about anything anymore.

Eventually he'd simply promised himself that he would decide what to do later, and for now he would focus on catching up on his cases. He was busy all day, but somehow didn't manage to catch up on a damn thing. He was interrupted so many times by his colleagues, by Floo calls, and by Potter's persistent fussing that by the afternoon he had calmly accepted that he would have to stay late because he knew he would achieve nothing until there was no one else around to bother him.

For what felt like the thousandth time that day, Draco heard a sharp knock on his doorframe and he looked up to see Quinton standing there. "How's your first day back?" he asked. "Wishing you'd choked on that olive properly, are you?"

"Yes, ha, ha," Draco replied dryly. "Despite all the mundane aspects of my life, and Potter in here fretting over me every half hour, I'm still just happy to be here. It's been rather harshly put into perspective that I only get one life, I shouldn't waste it."

"You say that, but you haven't actually acted on it," Quinton said, sounding almost as if he were lecturing Draco. "You can't sit there and tell me you're going to make the most out of life when you're _wasting _the most important opportunity life has given you because you're scared."

"What are you talking about?" Draco scoffed, although he had a feeling he knew what Quinton was about to say.

"_Harry_, you prat," he snapped. "He's been waiting for you to ask him out for months and now you're too busy worrying about what might happen if you do. Maybe you'll actually be _happy _for once in your fucking life! You are allowed to be happy, Draco, you can't punish yourself forever for mistakes you made when you were a child under the instruction of your deluded father."

"Shut the fuck up, Quinton!" Draco hissed in warning, and Quinton frowned. "You don't know anything about my father! Why do you even care so much if I go out with Potter or not!? It's none of your business!"

Quinton didn't even get a chance to respond when they were joined in Draco's small office – much to Draco's horror – by their boss. Potter stepped in the room and quickly closed the door. "Boys," he greeted them evenly. "Is there a problem here?"

Panic took over Draco's body and closed up his throat so he couldn't speak. Did Potter hear him screaming about dating him? Did he hear Quinton's uncomfortably-close-to-the-truth assessment of his subconscious reluctance to allow himself to be happy?

Quinton stared at Potter for a long moment before he glanced meaningfully at Draco and said, "Draco's had a pretty terrible day, Boss. I think he needs to go for a drink or two at the pub tonight." Quinton looked at Draco as he spoke and then he turned to head for the door, but not before giving his friend another smile. "I'd stay away from the Martinis though, Draco, they don't seem to agree with you."

Quinton clicked the door shut as he left and Draco exhaled the air he was holding in his lungs. He had only known Quinton for a few short years, but the man understood him like he'd known him his whole life; it was a gift Quinton possessed with most people and it came in very useful when he was trying to connect and empathize with a person of interest on a case.

"Had a bad day, huh?" Potter asked, drawing Draco's attention to him.

Draco froze again, unsure of what he wanted to do. He'd had so long to think about it, and had made up and changed his mind so often he didn't even find himself favouring one choice over another. "Yeah, I haven't managed to do much of anything today, despite my best efforts," he replied.

"Yes, we all have days like that," Potter acknowledged with a nod, and then turned slightly as if to leave. "I'll just leave you to it then, if you're okay?"

Draco panicked; Potter couldn't leave yet, he hadn't made up his mind about whether he should ask him for that drink or not. Quinton had given him the perfect opening and he knew if he didn't take it then, he never would. "Um," he hummed, and Potter stopped to listen to Draco's next words. "It has been a pretty terrible day and, er, I could use a drink," he said, and Potter just blinked at him in surprise. "Drinking has been rather dangerous for me of late," he continued, trying to make light of what he was about to say. "It might be safer if I didn't do it alone, and, um, well, you were pretty helpful last time."

"Yes! Yes," Potter cleared his throat awkwardly as he repeated his acceptance in slightly less of a shout than the first time. "Yes, of course, I can, um…." He had started backing up towards the door as if he wanted to run. "That sounds – oh, there's a bookshelf right there!" he exclaimed as he backed up into the piece of furniture; the corner looked like it had rather sharply jabbed him in his ribs. "That'd be great, yeah, so, um, six?" Potter had continued walking backwards to the door, despite learning the hard way why that wasn't a good idea.

"Yeah, six is great," Draco replied, biting his lip as he tried not to laugh at how completely thrown Potter was at the simple offer of an after work drink.

"Great, yeah, sex – I mean six!" Potter stammered, and Draco nearly choked on his own breath. Potter's slip of the tongue seemed to only increase his desire to retreat and he spun around to rush out the door, except he forgot Draco's door was closed and he ran right into it. Draco heard Potter swear under his breath as he fumbled with the door handle and literally ran from Draco's office.

It was all Draco could do not to laugh.

* * *

The pub was quiet which wasn't surprising since it was a Monday, but Draco was glad for the limited number of patrons at the bar because it would afford he and Potter a relatively private first date – or pre-first date, as Draco had decided to use this time with Potter to decide if he wanted to date him properly.

"I'll get us both a drink if you want to choose a table?" Potter suggested, although it was more of a question. Draco just nodded. "What would you like? I'm guessing you've changed your usual drink," he teased slightly.

"Er, yeah, I haven't decided what it'll be yet," Draco frowned, trying to think of what else he liked to drink. "Just get me one of whatever you're drinking – oh, and maybe some hot chips too."

Potter made his way up to the bar to order and Draco scanned the room for a table – it wasn't their usual bar, Draco had decided to avoid the scene of his brush with death and opt for somewhere new. Besides, he wasn't sure yet what he thought about being on a pre-first date with Potter and it would be better for them both not to be seen together by anyone they knew.

There was a private place in the corner which might be nice if he knew Potter better, but not for a pre-first date; he didn't want Potter to think he wanted any kind of canoodling and that booth just screamed 'canoodling'. Instead Draco chose a table a little more open, but private enough that the _Daily Prophet_ wouldn't be down here taking photos to splash across the paper declaring their relationship before it had even begun.

"Here you go," Potter announced as he handed Draco a drink and a bowl of chips. Draco took a sip of his drink, curious as to what Potter had bought him.

"Gin and Tonic?" Draco questioned, almost positive at his guess.

"Yeah, well, you always ordered a Gin Martini so I thought I'd stick with what I knew you liked," Potter replied with a slight blush of embarrassment. It was sort of attractive.

"It's good," Draco complimented him and took another sip before reaching for the bowl of chips; his stomach had been growling since late afternoon and he didn't want to embarrass himself as it became more demanding.

"Thanks for inviting me out, I know that Quinton pushed you into doing it," Potter said, starting off their conversation.

"Please," Draco huffed, "like Quinton could make me ask you out if I didn't want to."

Potter's grin dominated his face and Draco realized what he'd just said; he supposed their pre-first date had just been upgraded to first date with those words. "Oh," Potter sighed, blushing even more than before. As he watched the brunet's eyelashes flutter beautifully, he supposed he didn't mind too much at the upgrade; the man was gorgeous, he wondered why he'd never thought about it before. "So, um, you had a bad day, did you?" Potter said, obviously trying to encourage him to talk.

"Yeah, it wasn't great, but I don't want to talk about work," Draco replied. "Let's talk about something else."

"Alright, what would you like to talk about?" Potter reached over and took one of Draco's chips.

"I dunno," Draco shrugged. "Tell me what you do when you're not a work."

"Okay, well, I live by myself so there's not much incentive for me to be home early which means I usually get home at about half seven, have something to eat and then go over some stuff for work before bed," Potter explained matter-of-factly and Draco rolled his eyes.

"Great, so basically you work, eat, work, and then sleep?" he teased and Potter laughed softly.

"Yeah, well when you put it like that it makes me sound like I have no life," he chuckled.

"Doesn't sound like you do," Draco quipped. "What about on the weekends then?"

"On the weekends I play Quidditch with some of the Weasleys," Potter answered with a small smile. "It's me, Ron, George, Bill, Charlie, Ginny, Neville and a few others; we have our own amateur team and we play on Sundays. Afterwards we all go back to the Burrow and Molly makes us dinner, it's really excellent to be able to see everyone so regularly."

"Sounds positively delightful, what do you do on Saturdays?" Draco was enjoying this small insight into Potter's life; he was starting to see him outside of that office and he wanted to know more. He could imagine him on his broom surrounded by redheads and all their little red haired children watching below them as they flew around the pitch.

"Oh, well, I do different things on Saturdays," he replied, biting his lip as he thought about his answer. "Cleaning, shopping, sometimes I work – I know, don't look at me like that – sometimes I go out to a club, and sometimes I stay in and watch Rose and Hugo while Hermione and Ron have an evening to themselves."

"Interesting," Draco mused. "So, clubbing, huh? Where do you like to go?"

The two men talked for a solid two hours before they both decided to give in and simply order dinner at the pub as well so they could stay longer. Draco questioned Harry for as long as the brunet would stand it before he turned the tables and questioned Draco in return. Often they found topics they could both talk about like Quidditch, travelling, some books, and inevitably work, although mostly they talked about their colleagues rather than their cases. Draco found Potter to be refreshingly hilarious and not at all intimidated by his dry sense of humour as some people were. In fact, Potter almost always knew when he was joking and he delighted in it throwing deadpan comments right back at Draco until they were both in stitches.

"Uh, I'm sorry guys, but we're closing up, you're going to have to pack it up," the bartender informed them, interrupting a rather funny anecdote Draco was sharing about a trip he took to Germany when he'd gotten confused with the language and found himself lost in Muggle Berlin. As they walked out of the establishment, practically wrapped around each other in their hilarity, Draco told Potter how he had ended up staying in a Muggle hotel in Berlin where he discovered electricity for the first time.

"I couldn't figure out how those Muggles could fit _inside _that black rectangle! It seemed almost like magic except I knew Muggles couldn't do magic!" Draco explained, and Potter laughed uproariously beside him, almost tripping over a pot plant as he did.

"Did you ever figure it out?" he asked, righting himself and gripping on to Draco's arms for support. They were standing awfully close.

"No," Draco whispered, suddenly aware of how warm Potter's breath was on his face. "I started to research it and then I realized I really didn't care; they were only Muggles after all."

"Right," Harry sighed, blowing his sweet scent across Draco's nose as he leaned in to capture his first, long-awaited kiss from the blond.

Potter took him slowly and carefully as though he might break and Draco thought he might have been taking his time, wanting to remember everything in case they never got to kiss again. It was so intoxicating Draco was paralyzed into submission, letting Potter claim his lips and used them as he would. When Potter slipped his tongue inside Draco's mouth the blond was able to taste him properly and it was surprisingly nice. He hadn't given much thought as to what his boss would taste like if he ever got the opportunity, but if he had thought about it, he never would have guessed Potter would have been delicious – or gentle. Potter was always so tough and steady when he fought, he was quick and rough with people as he arrested them – particularly the ones they'd spent some time hunting – Draco never thought those hands, which were lightly encouraging him closer, could have been so deftly persuasive.

Potter pulled away from him so they could both catch their breath. "Mmm, Draco," he sighed, and Draco stiffened.

"Oh, um, I have to – I should-" Draco struggled his way out of Potter's arms and began to back away. "I have, um… it's late and I'll, er, yeah…." He turned and began walking down the street.

"Wait!" Potter called out after him as he tried to follow. "Draco!"

Draco turned to see Potter jogging after him. He quickly ducked into a deserted alleyway and Apparated the hell out of there; he saw Potter watching him go from the mouth of the alley, and he felt a pang of guilt. It couldn't be helped though; he had to get out of there. He'd been kissing Potter before he'd even thought about it and he still didn't really know what he wanted. It still sounded ridiculous to him; Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy?

Yes, completely ridiculous.

* * *

Let me know what you thought!


	3. Part 3

Thank you for your wonderful reviews! And thanks again to Lex for her wisdom on this story!

* * *

**Second Chance: Part 3**

Unfortunately, in order to get to his office, Draco had to pass by the office of his boss, which normally wouldn't be a problem except last night he'd snogged said boss and then ditched him rather rudely afterwards. Draco was early – as usual – but he knew that wouldn't make a difference since Potter was always in earlier than him anyway. He grit his teeth, hunching down slightly as though his shoulders might hide his face, and he stalked quickly and quietly passed the large glass windows of Potter's office.

He didn't even glance into Potter's office and he didn't look back once he got to the safety of his own desk, he just stood still and silent, listening to see if Potter's light footsteps had followed him down the corridor. They didn't.

Draco sank into his office chair with relief. He had toyed with the idea of not coming in today, but he knew he had too much work to do. Besides, he was going to have to face Potter eventually. He groaned. _This _was exactly the reason why he didn't want to start anything with Potter in the first place. He had _told _Quinton, but he wouldn't listen, he just had to push the issue and now everything was going to become awkward!

Draco huffed and began to organize his desk for his day's work; there was no point twitching in here like a nervous rabbit while he waited for Potter to storm in demanding to know why he'd run off after they kissed. He knew Potter would storm in there demanding that very thing as soon as the man knew he'd arrived, and he wasn't yet sure what he was going to tell him. Should he lie and say something like he'd just remembered he'd left his kitchen tap running and he had to rush home to turn it off? Or should he tell the truth and say that he enjoyed kissing him so much he got scared and ran away like a schoolgirl?

Neither seemed like attractive options, but luckily Draco didn't have to choose either because Potter never arrived. Actually, no one arrived. Draco spent four blissfully uninterrupted hours sorting out most of his cases, and had organized himself enough to be able to get out in the field that afternoon to chase up a few leads. It was odd really, he'd never gone this long without _someone _hassling him for _something_.

At noon he had his first visitor – the one he'd been dreading all day. "How's it all going?" Potter asked him softly.

"Pretty good actually, I've been able to get heaps done," he replied, ignoring his thumping heart.

"I thought you'd appreciate some quiet time. I had everyone direct anything for you to me just for this morning, so there are a few people you'll need to Floo back eventually, but nothing urgent," Potter said, and Draco nodded his understanding and thanks. "And Taylor is going to need your help on that underage dueling case she has. It's her first solo case and I know before your accident we assigned you as her senior support, but if it's too much I might be able to bribe Macgregor into taking it."

_Work? He wanted to talk about work? That's it?_

Draco's brow furrowed in confusion. "No, its fine, I'm happy to help her," Draco assured his boss. "I've already been over most of it and she's pretty capable, it shouldn't be too much additional work."

"Right, that's okay then," Potter nodded, then he looked at Draco uncomfortably and Draco knew it was about to come up – their kiss and his escape. "Look, about last night, I wanted to apologize."

"_You _wanted to apologize?" Draco replied in disbelief. What did Potter need to apologize for!?

"Yes, I let my feelings run away with me and I pushed you too quickly," he said, looking down at his feet.

At hearing these words, Draco began to feel foolish. A kiss at the end of a first date too quick? He would have laughed at the thought if it hadn't been true. It had been too quick for him, but it didn't make sense – Draco had _fucked _first dates before without a care in the world…. "Um, you don't have to apologize," Draco said, after realizing Potter was waiting for him to speak. "It's not exactly unreasonable to expect a kiss, I mean it was pretty much a date and it's not like we're teenagers."

"That wasn't an ordinary date, Draco," Potter replied softly, as if to comfort him. "We have a history, quite a long and often ugly one. I don't think normal dating rules or expectations apply to us."

Draco dropped his eyes to the quill he was fiddling with in his hands; this was a rather uncomfortable conversation. "I suppose," he whispered.

"If I promise not to try to kiss you again, would you have dinner with me sometime?" Potter asked him bravely, rendering Draco speechless.

"Dinner?" He had enjoyed himself last night and he knew Potter had as well, but he'd been so worried about Potter's reaction to his departure last night that he hadn't even thought about him wanting to go on _another _date.

"Yes, I thought maybe on Saturday." Potter looked hopeful and Draco's heart skipped a beat.

"Okay, sure," he said, his mouth running away with him before he'd had a chance to properly think about it.

"Great!" Potter smiled and the sight warmed him so much he had to smile back. "I'll leave you to it then, you should have some lunch."

"Yeah," Draco agreed. "I probably should."

_Oh Merlin, _he thought. _Did I just agree to a dinner date with Potter?_

* * *

"You have a stain on your shirt," his mirror informed him and Draco balked.

"I do not!" he gasped. "Where?"

"Right there on the left, you slob!"

"Oh fuck," he sighed. The mirror was right, there was a mark on his shirt, and so for the hundredth time that night Draco changed his clothes. His new shirt suddenly didn't match the trousers he'd chosen, and if he changed his trousers he would need to change his shoes. For a date he was completely unsure about with a person he had hated for so long, he was rather anxious about making a good impression.

He had barely finished lacing up his new boots when he heard his Floo flare up from the other room; Potter had arrived. It had been a rather awkward week for him and Potter, both nervous about their agreed date and acutely aware of the consequences if it didn't go well. They were colleagues – no, worse, they were boss and employee – but Draco was even more concerned about the date being successful, Potter would want another one and then another. He would want to move in, get married, have kids, and Draco just wasn't ready for that kind of commitment; it was only their first date after all!

"Draco!" he heard Potter call from his lounge and he shook the irrational thoughts from his head and went to greet him. "Hey, you look great!" Potter beamed as he walked into the room, and the compliment made Draco feel unusually uncomfortable. Normally he was at his best when under the flattering attentions of a gorgeous man.

"Um, thanks," he replied, trying to control his quickening heartbeat. "So do you." Although that was a lie – Potter didn't look great, he looked fucking incredible! It was all Draco could do to keep his jaw from dropping to the floor. Potter was wearing a pair of black dress pants that seemed to glide along the curve of his arse and fall effortlessly down his legs, and a green long sleeve button up shirt that made his eyes shine. For the first time that he could remember, Draco was _nervous _about a date – Potter was beautiful and he was, well …. "Do you want a drink?" he asked, hoping to God he would say yes; Draco needed something to help him relax, and he needed it _now. _

"We'd better not," Potter replied, still smiling at him in a way that wasn't at all helping Draco relax, "our reservation is in ten minutes."

"Right, yes," Draco nodded. He made his way to the closet to retrieve his coat in a few short strides, cursing Potter as he went. "Lead the way."

"Can we Apparate from here?" he asked, and Draco nodded.

"I can," he said. "You'll have to give me the coordinates and you can Side-Apparate with me."

Potter smiled and seemed to make the most of their required touching by looping his arm through Draco's and stepping close next to him. Draco swallowed heavily and glanced at Potter only for a second before popping them both out to the coordinates he'd been given.

They arrived, as was usual, in a rather dirty London alleyway, but Potter soon led Draco out and down the block to a rather flashy looking Muggle hotel. Draco thought to make some remark about Potter getting straight to business, booking a hotel room for them before he'd even bought him dinner, but the thought of having Potter naked in bed with him brought beads of sweat glistening to his forehead. "The restaurant is just up here," Potter explained; touching the small of his back, directing him towards a polished staircase.

Draco took a sharp breath at the movement and Potter pulled his hand away immediately. "You know what, I think I might just duck off to the men's room," he announced to his date, his voice quivering. "I'll be right back."

Potter looked a little worried. "Okay, well, I'll wait here for you."

He found the bathroom straight away; the neon lights making him look paler than usual as he stared at himself in the mirror. "What is _wrong _with you?" he hissed at himself. "He's fucking hot and he wants you! Why are you hiding in the bathroom?" The answer to that question resounded clearly in his head. _He's Harry Potter. Harry Potter. _"Merlin," he sighed. "What am I doing? I should have said no, there's no way I actually thought I would die if I didn't – is there?"

He wasn't sure if his dream was just a dream, or if he would actually _die _if he refused Harry, but there was one thing he was coming to realize – something he'd been lying to himself about for longer than he knew. Harry was it – the _One_ – as they say. He knew that he could love Harry, that if he let himself he _would _love him, and that he could spend the rest of his life happily waking up next to him. But did he really want to? This was a big decision and he felt like he'd been rushed into it; he felt like he hadn't had any time to _think. _He needed time to think.

On the way back to meet him, Draco found the bar – and relief. _Just one quick drink to calm my nerves_, he thought, and he made his way over to the barman. "I'll have a shot of … whatever's good, please," he ordered, not being familiar with Muggle beverages, and the barman produced a honey coloured liquid.

"You alright?" he asked.

"Fine," Draco replied, swallowing his drink in one go and almost choking on it as he did – it tasted awful. "I'm supposed to be on a date."

The barman laughed. "Ah, come for a bit of Dutch Courage, did you? Find out the girl was ugly or something?"

Draco imagined Potter waiting for him in the hotel lobby. "He is the most beautiful man I've ever seen," he replied with a small smile.

"Are you not gay then?"

"Of course I'm gay," Draco said a little snappishly. "Why else would I be on a date with a man?"

"Is _he _not gay then?"

Draco sighed in frustration; it wasn't any of this man's business anyway – why were Muggles so damn nosy? "We are _both _gay."

"Then I don't understand," the barman frowned. "If you are on a date with the most beautiful man you've ever seen and you're both gay, what are you doing sitting here?"

_What indeed? _Draco felt the anguish of his confusion, his conflicting emotions, his heart, head, reason, logic – _everything _in him screaming at him to be with Potter, to give in and be _happy_ for once. But something held him back and he didn't know how to get around it.

"Draco?" he heard Potter's voice behind him sounding hurt. "What are you doing?"

Draco sighed, the barman slinked away, and he was forced to turn around and make his way over to his date. Potter had never been very good at hiding how he felt, and it was written all over his face that Draco had made a big mistake. "I got lost on the way back," he lied, and Potter's frown dug deeper into his brow.

"Do you have some kind of _drinking problem _that I'm not aware of?" he asked, his voice dangerously low.

"What!? No, of course not!" Draco felt quite affronted at the suggestion.

"Then what the hell are you doing!?" Potter was furious, and Draco began to inwardly panic. He should be with Potter, he knew, it was the only thing that made sense, even though at the same time, it made no sense at all. But right now it felt very much like he was losing his chance.

"I – I-" he stuttered.

"Do you want to be here with me _at all_?" Harry's voice cracked a little and the sound stung straight through to Draco's chest.

"Yes, I do," he replied sincerely. "I do want to be here. I'm sorry, Harry. I'm just nervous that's all, I don't want to mess up."

Harry's face softened immediately at his words, and hope flared within Draco. "So you thought you'd abandon me instead?" Harry asked, holding no malice in the question. Draco just shrugged shamefully. "You've never called me Harry before," the dark haired man whispered, and again Draco felt the urge to run, but he pushed it down.

"Haven't I?" Draco's throat felt dry and the words scratched painfully as they came out.

He smiled demurely and shook his head. "Can we go up to the restaurant now?" he asked, and Draco nodded.

The blond marched determinedly up to the very stylish looking restaurant in an attempt to push his way through whatever was holding him back from letting go, but as he watched Harry order his entrée, he felt doubt creep into his mind and it was both comforting and frightening to feel it there.

* * *

"How is your duck?" Harry asked conversationally, and Draco tried to smile at him.

"Good." The conversation died. They hadn't managed to get talking beyond a sentence or two since they'd sat down and Draco wasn't sure what to do about it.

They had talked freely and easily on their last date and it had felt brilliant, but this time was different. Whether it was the restaurant, or that there had been a week's anxious lead up to this dinner, or that Draco had ruined the whole night by convincing himself that a bit of alcohol would lower his inhibitions and help him open up to Harry – he wasn't sure.

"Draco," Harry said, calling his attention. "Is everything alright?"

"Of course," he answered automatically and even as he did he knew that he hadn't been even the smallest bit convincing. He was extremely nervous, sure he was doing everything wrong, and worried that it seemed to matter so much to him to get this date right.

Harry just stared at him looking puzzled. "I can't seem to figure you out," he said eventually. "I mean, one second I'm sure you want to be with me too – like I want to be with you – and then the next second I think I must have it completely wrong because you look like you'd rather be _anywhere _than here with me." Harry paused, waiting for Draco to respond, but the blond was at a complete loss.

He knew exactly what Harry was talking about because he'd been battling those two sides of himself long before he nearly choked to death – or did choke to death; he still hadn't figured that one out yet. For a long time now it had been the Draco who liked Harry verses the Draco who was still determined to hate him; it seemed like since he had his brush with death, the part of him that liked the insufferable Gryffindor was beginning to win out.

"I don't want you to feel like you have to come out with me just because I'm your boss," Harry continued, reminding Draco they were still having a conversation. "In fact I really hope that's not the case."

"It's not, I promise you," he assured the dark haired man sincerely. He really did want to be there, more than he liked, but he was still unsure about what it all meant. "Like I've ever seen you as an authority figure," he joked, trying to break the tension.

Harry chuckled genuinely, smiling to himself about some memory or another, but he wouldn't let Draco brush him off. "Tell me, Draco, why did you agree to have dinner with me?"

"Because I wanted to." It was as simple as that – what bothered Draco was _why _he wanted to and how strong that feeling was. It wasn't logical, and he worried that it was simply because he'd somehow convinced himself that if he didn't he would die.

"Then I don't understand," Harry frowned cutely and a subtle smile pulled at Draco's lips. "Why do you feel like you have to be drunk to be here with me?"

The good feelings disappeared immediately. Harry had gotten completely the wrong idea, but he couldn't blame him; it didn't look very good at all. "It's not like that – oh, Harry, I'm so sorry," he groaned, his shoulders sinking down. "I am _not _drunk, it was just one shot. I'm nervous – you make me nervous – and I want this date to go well so much it's frightening. I thought it might help. I haven't done it in a while, but its something I used to do in Auror training; I would have a small drink before all my practical exams. I'd be less nervous going in and I'd be more likely to rely on my instincts rather than second guessing myself and making a mistake."

Harry looked surprised and a little amused. "You used to drink before your Auror exams?" he laughed. "I thought you received near perfect scores in all your exams?"

"Excuse me, I got straight O's," Draco smirked. "And deservedly so, I worked hard for those grades. Besides, it wasn't _all _my exams, just a couple of the practical ones I was a bit nervous about. We can't all be as good as you. You have always been able to comfortably rely on your instincts – from the very first day I met you…."

Draco thought about that day; Harry hadn't even known him, but he seemed quite confident that he didn't want to be friends with him when he declined his handshake – and when he thought back, Draco couldn't really blame him; he had been a bit of a shit.

Harry put his fork down and took a sip of water before catching Draco's eyes with his. "The first time I met you… well, you were the first person to talk to me like I was normal and not some freak cousin of the school bully." Draco didn't remember talking to him for very long, he simply offered his friendship but Harry hadn't been interested. "In Madam Malkin's, we got fitted for our uniforms at the same time, you were talking about Hogwarts houses and Quidditch – I didn't understand a word of it!"

The scene unfolded for Draco like a play in his mind and he remembered it perfectly; the two of them standing on those fitting blocks with Madam Malkin fussing about them like an old hen.

"I remember now," Draco said, and the clarity he felt at this memory seemed to dissipate much of the confusion he felt – for the time being at least. "I remember that day. I was terrified and I was trying to pretend I wasn't so Father wouldn't get cross with me. I was supposed to make him proud; don't be a wimp, get into Slytherin, get good grades, make friends with the right people." Draco trailed off, marveling at how it felt to be an adult looking back on how it felt to be eleven years old – his father had never been very fair to him. "I wasn't good enough for you then, Harry, and you could tell right away," he added almost sadly.

"Don't say that," he whispered back firmly. Harry reached across the table and claimed Draco's hand; he took a moment to enjoy the contact and then he looked up at Draco meaningfully. Draco saw Harry's heart in his eyes. "I like you," he said, and Draco trembled, "very much."

Thos piercing green eyes warmed his core and the heat spread through him like wildfire, pooling in his groin and making him shift in his seat. Draco's cock lengthened in his trousers and he had never been so grateful for the crisp white tablecloth that concealed his growing problem.

Harry liked him – _very much. _And he liked Harry.

There was passion swimming in those deep green eyes and they were begging him to let go, to do as he wanted because Harry wanted it too – _very much. _

"How was your meal, Gentlemen?" the waiter asked and Draco grunted in reply, too lost in Harry to concentrate long enough on a proper answer. "Can I get you the dessert menu?"

Harry didn't speak; he just moved his head very slightly from one side to the other. It was only a small gesture but it was enough for Draco.

"No, thank you," Draco barely choked out. "Just the bill please."

* * *

With a snarl, Draco descended on his prey, devouring Harry's mouth hungrily the moment they stepped into the privacy of the filthy alley. Bottles clattered together and noisily tipped on to the concrete as Harry lost his balance, moaning happily and twisting his fists into Draco's shirt to keep from falling over.

The tanned, muscled arms then wound around Draco's waist and he could feel Harry's pleasure pressing hard into his hip; it made him quiver. "Oh, fuck," he whispered and Harry pressed against him harder still.

He barely even noticed Harry flicking his wand before a familiar tug behind his navel pulled Draco twirling into Harry's bedroom. The room was surprisingly bare, like the man didn't spend much time in here at all – just to sleep – which Draco supposed sounded about right. The transportation seemed to sober him a little and he began to feel guilty. Here he was completely ready to fuck his boss until neither of them could move and then – and then what?

Harry would want him to stay. He was looking at Draco as though he never wanted him to leave.

That wasn't supposed to happen.

Draco felt strangely vulnerable and perhaps even embarrassed as those beautiful green eyes stripped him bare with need. The small smile curling on those tasty pink lips only made things worse as they conveyed a tenderness and loving amusement Draco had never seen directed at him before – and didn't think he deserved.

He should never have let his emotions run away with him. Now he was in Harry's bedroom and the situation felt completely out of control.

Harry moved closer to him, and he froze. Not good.

Harry must have sensed his apprehension because the man then took his hands, almost reassuringly, and rubbed circles into his skin with coarse movements that Draco liked – very much. He closed his eyes, and Harry seized the opportunity. He nuzzled Draco's face with his own, rubbing the side of his nose against Draco's nose, cheeks, jaw line, and then followed the path back with a trail of light kisses.

Draco's heart felt like it was beating out of his chest. _Merlin,_ this felt so good. He never wanted it to stop, and yet he needed it to. He couldn't take the closeness, the vulnerability he felt. He had never let anyone get so close to him, he hadn't even realized Harry had gotten this far through his barriers; he thought they were just having dinner. When did this happen? And when did he start calling the man 'Harry'? That was probably his first mistake.

Harry's breath washed over his mouth as he pulled back from a kiss Draco realized he hadn't responded to. In fact, Draco hadn't responded to anything since they'd arrived in Harry's room.

"Draco?" Harry's voice shivered softly over him; he was worried. "Are you okay?"

Draco said aloud what he'd been screaming silently in his head for a while now. "I have to get out of here." He pulled away from Harry and turned, searching for an exit.

"Draco, I'm sorry," Harry pleaded. "Please don't go, we don't have to do anything, I promise. Just stay with me, I'll make us a cup of tea or something."

Draco had found the door and was making his way down the stairs. Harry followed after him. "I fucked up again, I know," the man continued. "I pushed you too fast. I'm sorry! I'll back off, I swear. We'll go at your pace."

Even through his overwhelming panic, Draco was still surprised at Harry's persistent apologizing for situations that he – Draco-stupid-arse-Malfoy – had fucked up. A normal, psychologically balanced person would be in that room undressing the God-like body that was hidden under Harry's clothes and making love to the only man he'd ever truly wanted.

But as he began to jog away down the street, after hearing Harry shouting his name through the door he'd slammed between them, he realized with a heavy heart that he wasn't normal – or psychologically balanced.

* * *

So close yet so far! Only one more part to go, do you think its enough time for Draco to wise up and stop being such a chicken?

I sure hope so! Lol!


	4. Part 4

Thanks for all your reviews! I'm so glad you're enjoying this story! This is the last part for this fic. Once again thank you to Lex for looking over this story for me.

Enjoy!

* * *

**Second Chance: Part 4**

Draco sat heavily in his favourite armchair. The curtains were drawn in his lounge room and the only light he had on was a dimly glowing ball of fire he had conjured and suspended just above his bar. He needed to be able to see enough to pour the cognac after all. He hated cognac, that was his father's favourite drink and the smell had always brought back some not-very-nice memories of his fucked up childhood. Unsurprisingly, drinking his father's last bottle wasn't making him feel better. Neither was the soft croon of his mother's favourite singer; the music filled every corner of the room and Draco felt like he was drowning in it. He missed her, she'd been the only good thing in his life and now she was dead. His father may as well have been buried beside her; he was as good as dead to Draco rotting away in that Azkaban cell.

Draco took another sip from his glass and winced at the taste.

He needed to be rescued. _Harry. _But that was stupid; nobody was coming to save him. _Harry. _He couldn't just sit here and waste away, torturing himself with the memory of his long-gone parents and the loneliness that had been eating at him for years. _Harry. _But what could he do instead? He was unlovable; how could he be anything else? He was a Death Eater and an Auror, he'd taken and he'd saved lives, people hated him as much as they liked having him around. His past was too dark to allow him to have a bright future – and everyone knew it. _Harry. _There wasn't anyone who could truly love him. _Harry. _

Draco growled and threw his glass and cognac against the wall where it smashed and chimed as it's pieces landed on the floor. _Why _couldn't he stop thinking about him!? Harry. Harry. Harry. _Harry. _He was burned into Draco's mind, into his very being and he _wouldn't leave!_

Draco had thought – hoped, although he wouldn't admit it – that Harry might come to see him that day after Draco had run out on him. He hadn't. After nearly twenty-four hours of feeling sorry for himself, Draco realized he wasn't in any fit state to go to work – nor to see the very centre of his agony – and his hope.

He called into work sick, telling them he would probably be away for a few days.

For the next four days Draco drank, slept, and sat silently contemplating his life. He wasn't happy. He hadn't been happy for a very long time, so long he couldn't even remember what it felt like, and he was beginning to realize that it wasn't _Harry _he was scared of. It was this foreign feeling he got when he was around him. Happiness; it had to be.

How ridiculous. Who ever heard of someone being frightened of happiness? There was obviously something wrong with him.

After four days of thinking, Draco hadn't reached any kind of conclusion.

It had been so easy to live this way, pretending everything was fine when it wasn't. Pretending he didn't want someone to love and for someone to love him back when really it didn't seem to be the case. He knew he couldn't live this way anymore – and if he was honest, he had realized this the day he had died – well, almost died. If this truly was his second chance at life then he needed to live it better than he was. But was Harry the answer to that? It certainly felt like it. And according to that Angel – or whatever he was – Harry was his destiny.

Draco wholeheartedly agreed. Harry had to be someone's destiny; the man was a gift, a treasure, it wasn't right that he should just fall into someone's arms by chance. But _his _arms? That was where things started not to make sense. How was it possible that Draco Malfoy could be bestowed this gift?

The days blended together and each of Draco's 'where to from here?' options seemed to look less and less attractive as time passed and the pressure to make up his mind mounted. Should he run to Harry, fall to his knees and beg forgiveness? Should he quit so he would never have to see the man again and take a very, very long holiday someplace very, very far away? Or should he stay in this apartment forever until he ran out of food and wasted away to nothing?

On Thursday night his doorbell rang and a thrill that could have been a shudder ran through him at the possibility that Harry had come for him at last. He walked slowly to the door and paused before he opened it, wanting to savour the moment in case it was Quinton standing there instead.

He nearly smiled when he saw Harry's dark mop of messy hair on his doorstep, but when his boss turned to face him, Draco thought better of smiling. Harry looked angry. And hurt. "Are you alright?" he asked, and Draco's mouth suddenly felt very dry.

"Um, yeah," he replied. A lie, of course. He was far from alright.

"Okay then," Harry snapped and then turned to leave.

Draco's stomach lurched and in a moment of blind panic he called out to him – "Harry!" – before he could stop himself.

The man stopped and walked back up his front steps. "What?"

Draco didn't have anything to say. Nothing he'd be willing to say aloud at any rate. _Don't leave. I'm sorry. I think I might love you, but I also think I might be a little bit nuts. _None of that really sounded right, so he said nothing.

"Just so I know," Harry said, once he realized Draco wasn't going to say anything. "Should I be expecting either a sexual harassment claim or a transfer request form to land on my desk soon?"

Draco balked at the question – he hadn't been expecting anything like that! – and after nearly vehemently disagreeing he stopped. Harry wouldn't see a sexual harassment claim from him, but a transfer request… he didn't know.

"I guess that means you haven't decided yet," Harry observed, hitting the mark perfectly.

Draco twitched at how right Harry was and, being a brilliant Auror, Harry picked up on it and took it as a confirmation.

The man sighed, sounding like he was about ready to give up, and said, "I'm going to take one last shot at this and then I'm going to leave because I can't take it anymore – you're breaking my heart." Draco shifted uncomfortably as Harry continued. "I think I have this worked out. I know you want me-" Draco's heart leapt at the truth of the statement, "-but knowing that only makes this hurt so much more. Maybe I want more than you can give me, and that's probably not very fair, but I think you're passing up something that could be incredible because you're scared to commit. You want me, but you don't want to be with me. I know you're afraid but I don't know what you're afraid of."

He paused, giving Draco the opportunity to confess his fears. He didn't take it.

"I have a few theories about what might be holding you back, if you'd like to hear them?" He didn't wait for Draco to respond before he launched into what he'd obviously been thinking about these past few days. "My theories come down to that you're afraid you'll get hurt because deep down you think we're still those two ignorant schoolboy enemies, or that you think everyone will give us a hard time because they think I'm some fucking saviour and you're some evil Death Eater posing as an Auror, or finally that maybe – and I think this might be the closest to the truth – maybe you just don't know how to let go."

Draco felt like Harry was undressing him in the worst way, peeling away not just his clothes, but everything he'd ever used to hide himself and his imperfections. It felt like Harry could see everything, that he could see exactly how damaged he was. Draco wanted to cover himself with his hands; he felt _exposed. _

Seeming to sense this as well – making Draco feel like he couldn't hide anything from the man anymore – Harry proceeded to offer his own vulnerabilities.

"I think I let go," he said softly. "I let myself fall for you before you were ready to catch me and now I'm about to hit the ground."

Draco closed his eyes. _Guilt. _

Harry moved closer to him, and the first the blond knew of his proximity was the warm breath he felt across his cheek as Harry reassured and begged with him to face his fear. "I know you're scared," he whispered, "but if you let go – if you set yourself free – I _will _catch you, I promise. I will catch you because I love you."

Draco quivered and sucked in a quick, deep breath. Harry was so close to him; he could feel him, smell him, _taste _him. Those words affected Draco deeply and they pulsed through his very core. _I love you. I love you. _

Draco turned his head just so and leaned out to capture Harry's lips, but the man jumped away.

"No!" he exclaimed. "Please don't. I couldn't take it if you weren't here afterwards. You need to be sure."

Sure? Sure about what? There were lots of things about Harry that he was sure about. He was sure that Harry was perfect, he was sure he loved him, sure he wanted him, and damn sure that he would never be good enough for him. Was Harry right? Was he scared to let go? Scared that in the end Harry would realize he wasn't good enough and then – even with his promises – he wouldn't catch him.

"Do you know that park across from our usual pub?" Harry asked, pulling Draco from his revelations. Draco nodded. "I'll be there tomorrow at lunch time. Think about everything I've said – sleep on it – and if you're sure, if you're ready to be with me properly with no excuses and no running away, then meet me there. If you don't come – if you're not ready – then I'll be handing my resignation to Kingsley. You won't have to see me again."

"What!?" Draco gasped, completely floored. Finally he had something to say. "No! You can't!"

"I've already written the letter," Harry told him matter-of-factly. "You love your job and I'm ready for a change anyway."

_I've been hiding in my job_, Draco thought. "Please don't do this," he begged.

Harry cupped his face in his palm. "Please don't feel like any of this is your fault," he whispered. "I have to go. Goodbye, Draco, and good luck." And with a swift kiss to his cheek and a hurried few steps away from Draco's front door, Harry was gone. And Draco was lost.

* * *

Despite not sleeping a wink and thinking for hours about what Harry had said; Draco still was not sure. After everything he had put Harry through, he was going to do this one thing he'd asked – he would not go unless he was sure. He _wanted _to let go, he wanted to let himself love Harry freely and openly, but he was still afraid. One day someone would notice that he didn't belong with Harry and his life would fall apart.

He went to the park anyway; the promise of seeing Harry again was too strong to ignore.

He hid himself with a quick spell and stood behind a large tree trunk just for good measure. It gave him a perfect view of the grown man who sat almost child-like on a wooden bench; his shoulders slumped and his eyes inspecting the grass under his feet. But every so often he would look up and glance around him scrutinizing every dog and their owner, every woman with her baby, every walker, every jogger that passed by; he was looking for someone – and hoping. Each time he looked up and saw only strangers his shoulders sunk lower until eventually his elbows came to rest on his knees and his face came to rest in his hands.

Draco just watched.

He wanted _desperately_, more desperately than he could ever describe, to go over and rescue this man. But how could he? Harry deserved someone better than a broken ex-enemy. And Draco decided then and there to do the right thing and give Harry the chance to meet someone better.

Lost in his own misery at his decision and grieving the loss of his friend, his boss, his only love, Draco turned away from the park and began to walk home the Muggle way. He hadn't the strength or the will to Apparate anywhere.

_It was better this way, _he told himself. _Harry will meet some fantastic bloke who will actually be right for him. In the long run he'll be happier withou – woah!_

A gust of air moved past him so quickly he fell backwards onto his arse and into the gutter of a busy street. He snapped his head to the left, watching the large removal truck that had nearly cleaned him up drive on unawares down the road. A few people shouted and a man and a woman rushed over to help him up.

"Are you okay?" the woman asked, gripping his elbow to steady him as the man pulled him up and out of the gutter.

"Um-" Draco stuttered.

The man plonked him down on to the bench of a bus stop and frowned at him. "What did you think you were doing? Don't you know you have to look _both ways _before you cross the street!?"

"Hank!" the woman scolded the man. "Are you alright?" she asked Draco gently.

Before Draco could respond, another voice piped up. "He's fine," the voice said. "Why don't you all just carry on with your day?"

Draco turned to see who had spoken and to his complete shock he saw the Dumbledore-like man who he'd met in – um, well, when he'd died. This was the man who had given him his second chance. Draco then looked around him and found that all the people who'd stopped to watch as he was rescued from the street had disappeared.

"That was a close shave," the man commented.

And not knowing what else to say, Draco replied, "Um, yeah."

"What are you doing?" the tall man asked him as though he were a child.

Again, Draco didn't know what to say.

"You really are surprisingly unintelligent sometimes, aren't you?" he added, a little unkindly. "It's not easy coming down here, takes a lot of energy to do it, and I don't get very long – it's dangerous to my immortality, you see. In other words, I'm going to be blunt with you because I'm running out of time – and frankly, so are you. Stop being an idiot. Stop making up excuses and pretending you're doing this for _him. _You think he can do better than you? Wake up to yourself; _you _are his destiny, not because _we _chose you, but because _he _did. The destiny we gave him was not easy and as his reward we gave him another destiny – one he chose himself – you. The Fates glanced into the future and they made you for him."

Draco listened, but he was having trouble understanding what exactly this man was talking about. Harry _chose _him? And so he was created _for _Harry?

"But none of that really matters," the man continued. "What matters is that if you leave him here, your life will be unfulfilled and it will be cut short. Harry will never love another because he doesn't want to. And if you die – which you will if you do not follow the path you were created for – he will die, too."

As the man spoke, Draco realized he was right. He had been thinking for days about which was the best way – for himself and for Harry – to change his life and live it better, and he didn't know how he hadn't seen it before. For all his fears, his excuses, and his inadequacies, there never really was a choice. Harry was the only future he could see, even when he had decided to leave, his mind was still back there with the defeated man sitting on that bench. His destiny.

"That's it," the old man encouraged him in his new line of thought. "Now turn around and for all that is Holy, do _not _fuck this up!"

Not sparing a thought for his surprise at witnessing an Angel – or whatever he was – swear, Draco turned on his heel and bolted back to the park bench where he'd left his broken love. He arrived just in time to see him walking slowly down the path that wound around the trees in the park, and his heart leapt. He didn't feel scared, he wasn't worried, he wasn't even nervous. What he felt was… _sure. _

"Harry!" he called out, picking up his pace and chasing after the dark haired man. "_Harry!_"

Harry stopped at hearing his name and turned around. Tears streaked down his face and, when he saw it was Draco running after him, the tears seemed to flow all over again. Draco didn't slow down until he had Harry scooped up and sobbing in his arms.

"Am I too late?" Draco whispered, and Harry only clung to him tighter.

When he seemed to have calmed, Harry pulled back and looked at Draco with his red-rimmed eyes. "You're sure?" he asked shakily.

Draco smiled. "Positive," he said.

And he was.

* * *

**Epilogue:**

**Two Years Later. **

Draco loved how soundly Harry slept because it allowed him to sneak out of bed and surprise him an hour later with breakfast in bed, the newspaper, and a fresh vase of flowers. Several times it allowed him to sneak out and change into a very naughty – very small – pair of briefs and then sneak back into bed again.

Today was Harry's birthday, and as such, Draco had decided to surprise him with both breakfast and a scantily clad boyfriend.

The only problem with Harry sleeping so soundly was that sometimes he took longer to wake up than Draco would like. On those days sometimes, drastic action was required. Draco was already snuggled back into bed with Harry underneath their light summer bed sheets and so waking him up would be a pleasure.

Draco kissed Harry lightly on his nose. It twitched. He kissed Harry's chin. It was pulled to the side. With now perfect access to his neck, Draco nuzzled. Harry groaned and swatted him happily.

"Shouldn't a man be allowed to sleep in on his birthday?" Harry complained, but nevertheless he opened his eyes and smiled lovingly at his boyfriend.

"Not when your pancakes are getting cold," Draco replied with a grin.

"That's alright, I'll just warm them with a spell later," Harry told him and then turned over to snuggle his pillow.

"Don't you want to open your present?" he asked, trying to sound enticing. Draco was extremely anxious to have Harry open his present this year; he'd bought him something special.

"Oh, well, when you put it like that," Harry purred before rolling over so he was half lying on Draco's chest. "You know I always love opening my presents." Harry's rough hands explored Draco's bare chest eagerly and with a child-like giggle Harry peeked under the sheets and exclaimed, "Oh, Draco! I love the wrapping!"

"Off, you horny little monster!" Draco cried out, batting Harry away. "That present is for _after_ this one!"

Harry grinned devilishly, but behaved himself like a good little Gryffindor. Draco reached over Harry to the tray that held his breakfast and tried to ignore him when Harry slapped him on his barely covered arse. He retrieved the box that held Harry's birthday present and settled back in beside him.

"Happy birthday, Baby," he whispered and kissed Harry's cheek as he handed over the box nervously.

Harry stared at it as though he already knew what was inside; and perhaps he did. Everyone had been asking them about it for some months now. He suspected Molly Weasley already had their guest list planned.

Slowly, Harry opened the box and gasped when he saw two identical rings inside; the rings were gold with two diamonds flanking an emerald on one ring, and a ruby on the other.

Draco let Harry inspect them for a moment before speaking. "Not so long ago, when I was foolishly frightened of what it would mean to be with you, you promised me you'd catch me if I ever found it within myself to let go enough to fall for you," he said. "You told me you had let go before I was ready. I think we both know how close I came to not catching you in time, but thankfully that's something we don't ever have to think about again. So, now that I have you and you have me, I think its time we updated our promise, don't you? Harry, I'd like to promise you forever. Will you marry me?"

Harry blinked and looked up at Draco with tears in his eyes and a bright smile on his face. "Of course I'll marry you!" He laughed with untainted joy as Draco slipped the emerald engagement ring onto his finger and he slid the ruby ring onto Draco's.

"I love you, Harry," Draco whispered to his new fiancé, stealing a kiss for good measure.

"I love you, too," Harry replied sincerely. "Now, I should probably see to this other birthday present I have. It's rather sparsely wrapped, but I'm just dying to see what's inside!"

* * *

So extremely fluffy! How is it I can write something like this, but the fluff in New Moon made me feel physically ill? I suppose the fact its Draco and Harry makes all the difference...


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